would be sure to imagine me a mischievous
tom-boy, so I came to the conclusion that the best way to shock you
would be to be quite too awfully proper and well-behaved. I never
enjoyed anything so much in my life as that first tea-time, when you all
looked dumb with astonishment. I had made up my mind to go on for a
week, but mother is coming to-morrow, and I couldn't keep it up before
her, so I was obliged to explode to-night. Besides, I'm really quite
fatigued with being good--"

"And are you--are you--really not proper, after all?" gasped Mellicent
blankly; whereat Peggy clasped her hands in emphatic protest.

"Proper! Oh, my dear, I am the most awful person. I am always getting
into trouble. You know what Arthur was? Well, I tell you truly, he is
nothing to me. It's an extraordinary thing. I have excellent
intentions, but I seem bound to get into scrapes. There was a teacher
at Brighton, Miss Baker,--a dear old thing. I called her `Buns.'--She
vowed and declared that I shortened her life by bringing on palpitation
of the heart. I set the dressing-table on fire by spilling matches and
crunching them beneath my heels. It was not a proper dressing-table,
you know--just a wooden thing frilled round with muslin. We had two
blazes in the last term. And a dreadful thing occurred! Would you
believe that I was actually careless enough to sit down on the top of
her best Sunday hat, and squash it as flat as a pancake!"

Despite her protestations of remorse, Peggy's voice had an exultant ring
as she detailed the history of her escapades, and Esther shrewdly
suspected that she was by no means so penitent as she declared. She put
on her most severe expression, and said sternly--

"You must be dreadfully careless. It is to be hoped you will be more
careful here, for your room is far-away from ours, and you might be
burned to death before anyone discovered you. Mother never allows
anyone to read in bed in this house, and she is most particular about
matches. You wouldn't like to be burned to a cinder all by yourself
some fine night, I should say?"

"No, I shouldn't--or on a wet one either. It would be so lonely," said
Peggy calmly. "No; I am a reformed character about matches. I support
home industries, and go in for safeties, which `strike only on the box.'
But the boys would rescue me." She turned with a smile, and beamed
upon the three tall lads. "Wouldn't you, boys? If you hear me
squealing any ni